


Hostiles + Reports

by AppalachianApologies



Series: Schrödinger's Sandbox [4]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: And some army people, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, James MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Being an Asshole, Parental Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), References to Abuse, References to Child Abuse, Sandbox fic, Some talk of Bozer, Suspense, as always i promise nothing is explicit but please take care of yourself first and foremost, but again it's mostly just mac and jack, jack is yet again realizing that his bomb nerd is a child in a warzone, james is a shitty person and i'm definitely not afraid to say it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies
Summary: Something is going on with Jack's bomb nerd, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't pry it out of the kid. However, that soon turns out to be the least of his worries.
Series: Schrödinger's Sandbox [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157210
Comments: 20
Kudos: 58





	Hostiles + Reports

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Surprise! I posted yesterday and now I'm here because I don't have a life :D  
> This one is full of ideas that I had wandering around my brain, so I'm very glad to get all of them out!
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this fic: References to abuse, child abuse, abuse of a minor. As well as death of enemies. As per usual of most of my fics, there is nothing explicit, but the most important thing is to take care of yourself, and stay safe. Your health is infinitely more important than this story!
> 
> Enjoy! :D

“I’m just saying, Mac,” Jack starts, standing in the doorway of a now abandoned home, “I don’t think that you’d be able to beat a rooster in a fight.”

“If they couldn’t run away I’d be able to,” Mac grumbles back, silently wishing that he had another set of fingers. Or better yet, just two more hands. Bomb disposal could be ten times easier if that were the case.

Thankfully, between the rubber soles of his boots and a bit of quick thinking, Mac’s able to disarm the bomb without any extra fingers. And even better, it doesn’t result in him losing any fingers. Something that’s not always a given.

More than sometimes.

Continuing the conversation of how many farm animals Mac could take in a fight, Jack glances over to the kid. “What’s eatin’, you?”

“Hm?” With an indignant look, Mac just shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Then why’re you so quiet?”

“Everyone’s quiet compared to you,” Mac counters, letting a bit of his smile slip out.

Jack rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah,” But internally, is pretty damn happy that the kid finally said something. He’s not sure what’s going on with Mac, but he does know that it’s nothing pretty.

Keeping his eyes on his lap, Mac fiddles with his knife, pulling out and putting back all of the different tools over and over again. Bits of dust speckle the bright red, and no matter how many times Mac seems to rub them off, they never seem to go away.

He figures that it’s just one of the many joys of living and working in a desert. 

“Where’d you even get that?” Jack questions, interrupting his thoughts.

“This?” Even knowing that playing coy won’t really help him, Mac’s still willing to try. Just because he can tolerate his overwatch doesn’t mean that he wasn’t to spill all of his secrets. Unlike Jack, who seems to have the urge to tell Mac every single thing on his mind.

Nodding to the knife, Jack confirms, “Yeah. That. What else would I be talkin’ about?”

“Dunno.”

“So where’d you get it?”

After taking a split second to formulate a response, Mac carefully answers, “It was a present.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm.”

Jack knows that there’s a story in there somewhere, he does. The only problem is how he’s gonna pry it out of the kid. Push too hard, and he’s just gonna close himself off, even more than he’s already managed. But don’t push hard enough, and his bomb nerd is still gonna be an enigma. “From who?”

Along with an annoyed sigh, Mac answers, “My grandfather. Why do you care?”

Evidently asking one question was pushing too hard. “It’s called friendly conversation, kid. You could stand to learn a thing or two about it.”

Scoffing to himself, Mac pushes down the urge to leap out of the moving truck. Friendly conversation shouldn’t involve Harry. It feels like Mac’s little secret, and he doesn’t want anyone to know about him. Selfish, sure, but necessary. “Can we just not talk about this?”

Putting up one hand in mock surrender, Jack concedes, “Fine, fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Maybe nothing? For once?”

“What do you have against talking all of a sudden?”

With a scowl, Mac answers, “First of all, it’s not all of a sudden. And second of all, can you just shut up for a single minute? You never stop talking, Jack. Never.”

When his overwatch only replies with a drawn out sigh, Mac almost feels bad for snapping at him. Almost. He kind of deserved it.

The rest of the drive back to camp is tense, to say the least, and Mac can’t even tell if he’s more angry at himself or at Jack. He supposes it doesn’t even matter.

As soon as they get back, Mac and Jack go their different ways, and if he’s being honest, Mac couldn’t be happier about that. Nobody else will talk to him and bother him in the bunks, and that’s just what he needs at this moment.

He wants to make something,  _ fix  _ something, but Mac can’t focus enough to do any of that. All Mac can handle is just flipping out all of the tools in his beloved knife. The toothpick is dull, bent at a strange angle after years of use, and although he could fix it, the chance of snapping it is too great. 

Steel alloy has an incredibly high tensile and yield strength, and logically Mac knows that he could bend the pick back to its original shape, but he doesn’t want to risk it. This is all he has to remember Harry with.

Mac’s gone through his EOD bag a dozen times, fiddled with each tool inside a dozen more, but nothing seems to quiet his brain. No matter how many things he creates using military grade tools, nothing seems to help.

He hates it. So, so much.

And the worst part is, Mac doesn’t even know why he’s feeling this way. He just doesn’t want to be here. However, that’s not to say that he’d rather be at MIT.

No, he’d rather be at home with his mom, or making a movie with Bozer and his family. Things that Mac won’t ever get to do again. 

Reaching for the junk underneath his bed, Mac sighs when his fingers find a few crumpled up pieces of notebook paper. All of them are wide-ruled, which used to drive Mac crazy, because James always,  _ always  _ made Mac only use college-ruled paper.

Bozer’s always preferred the former. 

Mac’s read through the letter ten times over, but that doesn’t stop him from reading through it again. Bozer put in a few lines from his latest script, as well a few plot holes that he couldn’t seem to get rid of.

Something about aliens on Earth, and all humans becoming astronauts in an effort to get away from them- Mac doesn’t really understand. But he loves it all the same. He can nearly feel Bozer’s excited energy coming through the page from the smudged ink.

It’s a reminder of a life that Mac knows he’s never going to get.

On the last page of the letter, two pieces of tape still remain where there were a couple of paper clips were attached. Those two didn’t even last a day.

Unlike his beloved knife, the tensile and yield strength of steel, the same material that paperclips are made out of, is rather weak. From only an hour of twisting and turning, both of the paper clips snapped.

The figure of an alien will never be finished.

Bouncing his knee up and down, Mac bites the sides of his mouth, before latching onto his SAK once again. The scissors need to be sharpened again. The toothpick needs to be straightened, and the knife needs to be cleaned.

There’s so many chores that Mac needs to do, yet all he can handle is just letting it sit in his hands. Rubbing his thumb across the smooth red exterior, feeling all of the familiar grooves.

*

As soon as the door closes behind them, Jack cuts straight to the chase. “They’re still bein’ sent out?”

With a somber nod, Wright confirms, “Every single one, Dalton. And I still don’t know where.”

“Alright,” Jack shakes his head. “Where do I gotta dig around?”

“That’s the thing, I’ve tried. I’m a higher clearance than you, and no matter what I do or who I talk to, nobody seems to know why the damned address is redacted. Dalton,” Wright starts, staring him down, “I know you don’t want to, but if you still have your connections,”

Jack doesn’t have to think twice. “No. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you never, ever want to have to owe anybody. ‘Specially not if that person’s in the CIA.”

“There’s no way we’re gonna be able to get an address then.”

“Find a way to unredact it!”

“It’s more than just that,” Wright shakes his head, “It’s like it doesn’t even exist.”

Slamming his hand down on the desk, Jack gives a deep sigh. “I gotta figure this out, man. Why the hell is someone after this kid?”

With raised eyebrows, Wright mutters, “Didn’t realize you cared so much, Dalton.”

“It’s a fucking twenty year old,” Jack answers, shaking his head. “I’ve been his overwatch for a month and a half, and he’s never once mentioned anything about his family for more than a sentence. There’s no one else that cares about him. And if I don’t figure out what’s happening here? No one will.”

*

Mac remembers very clearly what Pena said about distractions.

There’s absolutely no place for them to belong while disarming a bomb. Everything else needs to be put aside when it’s just him and the bomb. At that moment, all of the other problems of the world don’t exist.

The war doesn’t exist, his peers don’t exist, not even the overwatch that’s standing a few feet from him. Nothing exists but him and the bomb.

The bomb with a timer, blinking and mocking Mac. 

It’s not a complicated bomb, far from it, but for the first time, Mac practically wishes it was. Anything to take his mind off of itself.

After Mac snips the final wire, he continues staring at the damn thing, wondering, not for the first time, what would’ve happened if he messed up. It’s a damned stupid thing to wonder about, given the fact that there’s only one outcome.

Death.

As Jack would put it, Mac would go kaboom. Poof. Up in flames, just like Pena.

Clearing his throat, Mac announces, “We’re good here.”

“Up for another?” Jack asks, as if either of them had a choice on the matter.

“Yep,” Mac snaps the scissors back into the casing of his knife and stands up, doing his best to ignore the stare that he knows Jack is giving him.

Jack almost makes it to the five minute mark before speaking up in the truck. “You feelin’ alright, kid?”

“Does it matter?” Mac scowls, turning the opposite direction. He knows he’s acting like an obnoxious teenager, but at the moment, he doesn’t give a damn.

“Kid, what’s goin’ on with you?”

Snapping, Mac bites, “Don’t say it like you care.”

This time, Jack is the one to scoff. “You’re the only thing stoppin’ me from going home in small pieces, so forgive me if I want you at your best.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m just a tool for the army to use.”

“We’re all fucking tools for the army to use,” Jack shakes his head. “We’re all nameless and faceless to the government, Mac.”

“No,” Mac says, “No, not like you are.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You save people,” Mac answers with the shake of his head. “You have to look out for everything around us, and you’ve spent years doing that. Being the thick of it all, actually making a difference.”

Risking taking his eyes off the dirt in front of them, Jack questions, “And you don’t?”

“The only reason why I’m still here is because I’m useful.”

“You’re here because you’re a damned good tech, Mac!”

“If I wasn’t useful, nobody would’ve even given me this many chances!”

With a confused scoff, Jack questions, “Where the hell are you even getting this from?”

“It doesn’t matter, because it’s true!”

“Mac-”

“Just stop, Jack.” Grinding his teeth together, Mac presses his fingers into the sides of all of the tools in his knife. 

“Mac,” He warns.

Effectively cutting off the older man, Mac looks the other way. “We’re here.”

“Alright, chill out for a second,” Jack sighs, “Let me go clear the damn place first.”

“There’s no one here,” Mac points out, stepping out of the truck, blatantly ignoring his overwatch’s request. 

“Alright, alright.” Unstrapping his rifle, Jack glances at the few buildings around. “Hold your friggin’ horses.”

Huffing, Mac dutifully follows the older man’s lead, stepping behind. 

As per usual, both of them scan the environment, but for different things. For any loose chair and extra debris, Mac always keeps an extra eye out, just as Jack pays a special mind to every covered rooftop and open window.

The second Mac slips into an open door, Jack growls, “Dammit, Mac, I said to wait for me!”

Turning on his heel, the younger man snaps, “There’s no one around, Jack. I have eyes!”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it,” Jack mumbles back, keeping his voice down, even if Mac won’t. “But just in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a goddamn warzone. Nothin’ is safe.

After muttering something under his breath, Mac announces, “I found it.”

Popping his own head inside of the door, Jack sighs when he sees the “kitchen” in front of him. He doesn’t need to be a tech to know that drawers aren’t supposed to have wires coiled around the sides of them.

“Alright, you stay put for a second, you hear me? I need to go find a nest to watch that front door,” Jack says, motioning with his free hand.

Although Mac hears him, all of his brain power has already been narrowed down to the bomb, and only the bomb. Just like Pena said.

It’s just him and the bomb.

Turning down the radio, Mac takes a deep breath. It’s just him and the bomb.

First, Mac opens the drawer beside the one with the alleged bomb in it, taking another breath when that one seems to be clear. Carefully, he uses his knife to pry out the plaster separating the two.

Frowning at the mess of wires, plenty of which Mac's pretty sure are unnecessary, he sets down his knife and clicks on the flashlight. Even with the extra light, there’s still too many shadows, and it’s far too dark for Mac to get any information on the bomb in front of him.

With a quiet huff, he carefully moves wire upon wire until he can finally see the explosive. It’s plasticy, but that’s all he can manage. Ideally, he’d need to pop off the top of the counter, but Mac knows that he doesn’t have the materials for it. And without a power source, nor any source of pressure, he can’t make any tool either.

This bomb is going to be a pain.

A second later though, that’s the last thing on his mind.

Mac’s been in the army long enough to know exactly what a round from a rifle sounds like, and it puts him on edge just as much as the first time.

The front door is the only way out, and based on the moving figures outside, Mac knows that if he takes a single step through the threshold, it’s a death sentence.

More rounds sound off, spurring Mac into action. He can’t leave, which means he has to make do with what he has around him.

He’s in no shape to fight, especially with the amount of hostiles he can hear outside. If fight isn’t an option, then flight it is. With nowhere to run, Mac’s down to the very last option: hide.

There aren’t any hatches on the floor, but there’s a door, still intact, only a room over. No windows for him to escape from, but by now Mac shouldn’t even be questioning his luck.

Ensuring that he has his knife with him, Mac packs himself into the closet, ignoring the horrid smells around him, and does his best to quiet his breathing.

It isn’t just him and the bomb anymore.

*

The kid’s damned bad mood seems to transfer over to Jack, which he sure as hell isn’t happy about. Despite what the Deltas may say, Jack’s no Mr. Optimist, but he may as well be a goddamn ray of sunshine compared to his damned bomb nerd.

If Jack didn’t know any better, he’d figure that Mac is going through some emo phase of his. Pisses him off. The fucking kid doesn’t even know what’s good for him.

And then the hostiles arrive, a dime a dozen, and the last thing on Jack’s mind is how obnoxious the kid is. Jack’s already lining up his scope from habit by the time any of the men have stepped out of their trucks.

Don’t go for a shot unless it’s the best one. Don’t settle, unless it’s perfect. Holding his breath, pulse becoming even, Jack pulls the trigger. He doesn’t have to double check to know that the man is dead before he hits the ground.

They’re like bugs though, and for every one that he taps, it seems like two more appear. Still though, Jack’s able to make his way through them, all of them fumbling around like idiots, trying, and failing, to find Jack’s nest.

He’s no ameature when it comes to camoflauging himself, especially when it counts.

Jack curses when the men start using a building as cover. And it’s just his luck that it’s the damned building that his goddamn fucking bomb nerd is in.

Fuck.

Without thinking twice, Jack secures his rifle behind his back once again, and cocks the pistol in his thigh holster a fraction of a second later. Every single one of Jack’s bomb nerds have made it back home, and there’s no way that the kid with the hamburger name is gonna ruin that.

It’s more of a bloodbath than Jack would’ve liked by the time he gets to the building Mac is in, but Jack doesn’t dwell on it. Better them than the kid with a red knife.

All of the hostiles are built strong, but they don’t carry the anger that Jack does. They don’t have the same purpose, the same motivations.

Jack barely breaks a sweat. There’s no way in hell he’s leaving this kid in the desert.

Inside the home, there’s shouting, arguing about the wires sticking out of a broken kitchen drawer, clumsy weapons drawn. Jack brings up his pistol to one man’s head, and whips the other when he’s out of ammo. Taking ten seconds to change out the clip, Jack shoots the other man between the eyes. 

Keeping his heart steady to ignore the rush in his ears, Jack listens for any others in the area. After a full thirty seconds of no clunky boots or foreign language, Jack lets his shoulders drop. There’s no way he’s putting his gun back in its holster though.

“Kid?” He calls out, stalking between bodies, eyes sharp for the obvious ACUs among the hostile clothes. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved or more worried when he does find any. “Angus?”

Jack pauses, mid step. 

There.

It’s quiet, barely noticeable, but Jack’s been trained to hear shuddering breaths. He absolutely hates the fact that it’s coming from the kid. Swinging open a door, Jack looks down to see the kid pressed up against the wall, body pulled taut with tension.

Instantly scanning for blood, Jack questions, “Mac, you good? Are you hurt? Mac?”

“Not hurt,” The kid breathes. “I’m not- they didn’t find me.”

Jack frowns when Mac doesn’t even look up. Then again, this would make any sane person fall into shock. “Alright, we gotta get out of here, call it in. We’ll come back for the damn IED later,” He adds, holding out his left hand to haul him up.

Being shot at, the fear of never going back home to Texas, even the close quarter combat, Jack didn’t bat an eye. But then the damn kid, the kid with the closed off looks and the anxious bites, flinches. Fucking flinches. And Jack’s heart skips a beat.

He’s seen it all. He knows exactly what it is. Hell, Jack’s seen it in Riley, tiny Riley at only twelve years old, crying under the bed because she accidentally dropped a glass while emptying the dishwasher. And just like with Riley, Jack wants to find the goddamn human who did this to Mac, and tear. Them. Apart.

In a split second, Jack pulls himself together. Now’s not the time.

Even though there needs to be a time.

_ Now’s not the time. _

“There might be more coming,” Jack announces, taking a step back from the door. “We need to leave now, Mac. You hear me?”

Breathlessly, Mac confirms, “Hear you.”

“Alright, let’s go. Up and at ‘em, kiddo,” Jack says, cursing himself as soon as the nickname slips out. He turns before Mac can see his face.

Jack drives the way his dad taught him to: fast, as fast as he can, to get the hell outta Dodge. He doesn’t look back, and doesn’t look to the side at his bomb nerd, who’s barely even moved. “You sure you’re not hurt?”

“I’m sure. They didn’t even see me.”

“Good,” Jack scoffs, “‘Cause if they did they’d have a hell of a lot more lead in them.”

From his peripheral vision, Jack can see Mac glance at him for half a second. “You’re, uh, you’re not hit either?”

Jack’s heart clenches. “Nah. Takes more than that to hurt me.”

“Good,” Mac quietly replies, before pulling his knife out of his pocket, fiddling with the tools almost ritualistically. The two stay in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Mac opens his mouth again, only for nothing to come out. It takes another few tries until he’s able to manage it. “Thank you.”

Jack gives him a smile, eyes hoping to find Mac’s own. “For what, doin’ my job?”

“Yes.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Shaking his head, Mac tries to explain, “It was dangerous, you couldn’t gotten hurt, or even killed-”

With the shake of his head, Jack cuts him off. “And if I didn’t do anything, then you definitely would’ve gotten killed. I told you, I’m not plannin’ on bringing any of my bomb nerds home in a pine box.”

Even though Mac knows that the majority of coffins are now made of cherry and oak wood, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Thanks.”

“Mac. You don’t need to thank me for that.”

This time, he does look up. “Don’t I? You risked your life to save mine.”

“And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. What don’t you get about that?”

“Nothing,” Mac shakes his head. “I don’t know.” With that, Mac turns all of his attention back to his knife, the tip of his index finger gliding over each of the tools.

Taking a deep breath, Jack just puts all of his focus to the landscape in front of him. He’s gonna deal with it. Just maybe not now.

*

Part of Mac feels like it’s still shaking when they get back to camp, no matter how many breaths he’s taken or grounding exercises he’s attempted. It bothers him more than he thinks it ought to.

Mac’s been in dangerous situations before. It’s not like it’s the very first time that he’s had to deal with hostiles, but it still feels like it is. Somehow, it feels different than what happened with Pena.

The thing that killed Pena was an object.

But the things that were after Mac? Those were people. Living, breathing, people. Mac barely contains a shudder.

He knows he needs to get himself together, and pulls his head out of his thoughts. If his dad were here, Mac knows that James would tell him to shape up and focus, but Mac just can’t.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Mac doesn’t know whether to be grateful or to snap at his overwatch. After a beat, he just settles with, “I’m sure.”

Although he doesn’t look happy about it, Jack concedes. “Alright. Let’s go find Martinez.”

The actual talk with Martinez goes quickly, and Mac’s grateful when Jack does most of the talking. Mac basically just stands there, fists at his side, mind wandering, going through thoughts a mile a minute.

“Alright, MacGyver, you’re free to go,”

Hearing his name, Mac barely manages to take in the scene around him for the first time. “Sir?”

“You heard me,” Martinez barks. “Sergeant Dalton will find you if there’s another assignment today. Make sure your bunk is clean.”

With a jerky nod, Mac turns on his heel. That’s a dismissal if he’s ever heard one. However, right after he steps outside, Mac can’t force himself to take the short trek to the bunks.

His dad always said curiosity was both the thing that would make him smarter than his peers, but also the thing that would get him killed. But right now, Mac doesn’t want to focus on his dad’s words.

Instead, he wants to know why Martinez is keeping Dalton behind.

Although muffled, Mac can make out the words.

“Who’s your commanding officer, Dalton?”

“You are, sir,” Jack answers, tension seeping through his words the same way they did when Mac first met him.

“That’s right. Why have you been going to Wright then?”

Mac frowns. He knows from earlier that Jack talked to Wright about something, but as far as he knew, there weren’t any other times. Then again, it’s not like Jack spends every waking second with Mac.

Jack’s answer comes a second later. “Just catching up with an old friend, sir. We had served together, sir.”

“Dalton.”

“Sir,” Jack replies a second later, with an air of confidence that even Mac can hear.

“Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me that all you’re doing with Wright is catching up?”

“Yes, sir. Colonel Wright and I are just catching up, after not seeing each other for nearly a decade. Sir.”

Mac holds his breath as the seconds tick by, until Martinez finally responds. “Fine. Go find your tech, Dalton. And make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

With a quiet huff, Mac frowns and turns away, not wanting to get caught listening in. Every time Mac does anything, Martinez is always looking for an excuse to punish him for it. Mac could probably cure cancer and Martinez would find a way to be angry at him.

Back at the bunks, Mac twists his fingers around themselves, frowning at no one but himself. If Jack’s really up to something, he knows that Martinez is going to find out. The man seems to know things have happened before they even exist.

And if Jack gets in trouble, he might be sent somewhere else, leaving Mac with yet another new overwatch. If that happens, Mac knows that it’s only a matter of time before that new overwatch leaves too.

Mac bites his lip. He’s being selfish, again. Dad always said that would be his downfall. Too selfish to look at the big picture.

When Jack walks into the bunks, Mac makes a split second decision. “Have you been talking with Wright?”

“Jesus, kid,” Jack grumbles, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re gonna give me a damned heart attack. I didn’t even see ya.”

Forgoing the obvious old joke, Mac asks again, “Have you and Wright been talking? Talking a lot?”

“Well, your eavesdropping skills aren’t half bad,” Jack replies, before sinking down to his own mattress. “And you don’t need to worry about it.”

“You’re my overwatch. If you get in trouble, and taken away, then I’m stuck with another one. So it’s better if you just tell me now.”

After evidently debating it for a second, Jack eventually answers, “Wright and I were buddies, the first time I enlisted. We met back at basic.”

Mac nods, patiently waiting for the information that he knows is coming.

“After a few tours with him, I became a Delta.”

“You were a Delta? Why’d you come back here?”

Scratching a finger against his stubble, Jack shrugs. “That’s another story, for another time, kid. Point is, I left, and Wright didn’t. He climbed up the chain of command, and now he’s here bossin’ everyone around.”

“Are you really just talking with him because he’s an old friend?”

“No.”

Surprised by his frankness, Mac takes a second. “Why, then? Is there something going on?”

“Here’s the thing, kid,” Jack starts, finding his eyes from across the empty room. “There’s something strange- something hinky going on.”

“With what?”

“You.”

Mac shakes his head. “What? With me? I haven’t done anything, Jack!” Feeling his heart speed up, Mac turns back to his hands, twisting with anxiety.

“I know,” Jack quickly agrees. “We know.”

“‘We’?”

“Wright.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Mac questions, “Why does Wright care about me?”

“He noticed something weird going on.”

“Weird like what?”

“For every IED that a bomb nerd disarms, or fails to disarm,” Jack adds, oblivious of Mac’s minute flinch, “A report is written. They get used for-”

“For statistics, and even certain formulas in order to create the most efficient way of disarming bombs. I know.”

Jack doesn’t even look surprised. “But all of the reports that have to do with you are being sent out to a specific address. And no one else’s.”

After a few seconds of silence, Mac questions, “So what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Jack admits. “Neither does Wright. At first we thought it could’ve been an intelligence organization seeing if you were worth recruiting-”

“An intelligence agency- I’m twenty!”

“They take ‘em young, kid, believe me.”

Storing that away for future reference, Mac shakes his head. “You said that you only thought that at first. Now what do you think?”

“Now we don’t know. After your little stint in the infirmary, we’re not sure.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

With a breath, Jack explains, “Your medical report also got sent out. To the same address as all of the others.”

Shaking his head, Mac says, “That- no. That doesn’t even make sense. Why would anyone care about that? I was in there for an hour. Not even that long.”

“We don’t know why anyone would care either. Wright’s been keeping me updated. He’s up high enough that he can look at this without suspicions, but I can’t.”

“So what’s the address?”

“It’s redacted,” Jack replies with a sigh. “And with Wright’s pay grade, he can’t see what it is.”

Pulling his fingers away from each other, Mac looks up. “So someone’s after me?”

“We don’t know. We don’t know anything, other than the fact that they’re all being sent to the same place.”

“Every report about me?”

Nodding, Jack confirms, “Every report that has  _ anything  _ to do with you.”

Turning away from Jack, Mac shudders. Slipping his familiar knife out of his pocket, Mac thinks about all of the things he’s done since he’s enlisted. Every bomb he’s disarmed, every superior he’s pissed off.

And someone knows every single bit.

**Author's Note:**

> ...can you tell that i fucking hate James MacGyver with a fiery passion?? :D Because I do! :D He's an asshole :D And so is Elwood! :D In this metaphorical household we don't forgive shitty fathers for the plot, because often times they don't deserve to be forgiven :)
> 
> PS, next fic is either going to have to do with Christmas, or the day of 1000 IEDs. which would you prefer? (both of them are going to happen but i just don't know which order yet)
> 
> I'd love to meet more of you guys, so come talk with me on [tumblr](https://appalachianapologies.tumblr.com/) (AppalachianApologies) if you'd like! I'm always so down to meet new people :D
> 
> I love you all very much, and I hope you all are doing okay. If you find yourself in a bad or scary situation, here are some hotlines (Please keep in mind that the written out numbers are US hotlines)
> 
> National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
> 
> If you don't live in America and need someone to talk to, here's a list of [international hotlines.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines)  
> You are not alone, and I love you all <3


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